Burning Through The Bloodlines
by IsabellesLightwood
Summary: A mysterious trio appear in modern day New York, not willing to give an explanation as to who they are or why they're here. No one's sure who to trust, and the one grumpy warlock who may be able to answer the questions is, quite temperamental. One thing's clear, they're here for a reason, and where Shadowhunters go, problems follow. Hopefully they can stop them before it's too late


_It's raining. It's raining when Simon and Maia are walking to Chinatown, Maia eager to show him something back at pack quarters, when they're shoved rather harshly out of the way by a trio. Simon's hood is up on the hoodie Clary hates the sight of, and Maia's wearing her raincoat, the slow fog rising off the pavement making it hard to distinguish exactly who the offenders were and what gender. Although it was obvious at least one of them was female, by the heavy dress she was wearing, the rainwater causing it to cling to her skin._

_What they both do manage to notice however, is the flash of black marks inked onto skin as they run past. Maia lets out a low string of cuss words as the two figures become smaller and smaller, vanishing in the mist._

_For a moment, it seems like at least one of them is going to pull back, to apologize, the girl / woman following suit, but the other member of their party is already leaping forwards and if they do, they might never be able to catch up._

_They're gone now and Maia has regained her balance. "Assholes."_

_"Shadowhunters," Simon shrugged, "So used to being invisible they don't care who they bump into."_

_Maia rolled her eyes, shaking her head as droplets of water were flung from her braids. "Someone should teach them some manners."_

_"Says the one drying off like a wet dog."_

_She glowered at him as he lifted his arms in surrender, before being dragged forcefully along to Chinatown._

_::_

_It's raining. Little dewdrops slide down over the cool glass, misting up as condensation takes it course. It's raining as Alec feels Magnus stir in bed beside him, watches through drooping eyelids as his boyfriend jerks upright at 8 o'clock in the morning on a Saturday, something of a miracle._

_"What is it?" He inquires, joining him, brows quickly creasing as Magnus begins to rub his temples. He hates this, watching him worry, knowing that he can't do much to help._

_"Nothing," Magnus replies, sighing as he squeezes his eyes tightly shut, before opening them again to look at Alec, cat eyes staring into his blue ones._

_Alec isn't convinced, the soft pitter patter as the rain lashes at glass filling the silence._

_"I just thought I felt something, powerful magic-"_

_"I can call my mother if you think something's wrong," Alec interrupts, heart already beating fast as is almost ingrained into him. Danger, reaction, fight, resolution, Shadowhunter morals._

_Magnus simply shakes his head. "It's probably nothing, I was having quite an odd dream anyway," his focus turns from him into somewhere mid-air, as often happens with Magnus. So often that Alec has grown used to it. "Besides, we wouldn't want to trouble your mother. She isn't that fond of me."_

_Alec's mouth is open ready to launch a retort, to reassure his boyfriend, but Magnus has already collapsed back onto the pillows arm slung lightly around the younger boy, eyes closed._

_Alec sighs, and settles deeper into the sheets, dreams coming swiftly, all danger long forgotten._

_::_

_It's raining. Although Clary is unable to hear it as Jace is playing with the new phone she helped him choose and is blasting music from it as she stumbles towards the source of the sound. She hasn't developed the natural Shadowhunter grace the rest of the Lightwoods possess, but is hoping that there's a rune for it. Worst come to worse she can invent one._

_This is what she's thinking, of grace and Jace when she trips blindly over Church who had been laying in the middle of the corridor. Rubbing her bruises Jace finds her there, Shadowhunter hearing allowing him to hear the thud followed by a trail of swear words._

_He laughs, before helping her up and shouldering her weight, as he heads to the kitchen. "Just in time, I was about to make coffee."_

_"You hate coffee," Clary points out, raising an eyebrow as she limps next to him, looking like an ape with her bedraggled, rained on hair from her journey over there, in comparison to him, as always._

_"Yes but it's brown," he replies, shrugging as if that answers everything, and Clary rolls her eyes and follows him, Church hissing after the both of them._

_::_

_Yet perhaps most importantly, it's raining when three figures clamber up the steps to the Institute, pulling the old fashioned bell that stands there, the girl shivering underneath her many layers of dress, the two boys standing on either side of her, protectively._

_One of them hikes up his coat sleeves slightly, allowing the swirl of black marks to be just visible._

_It's raining when Isabelle wanders to the door, barely able to hear the ringing above the music that is continuously blasting from Jace's room, deciding that it would be more convenient for her to answer it rather than wait for her mother._

_It's raining when Isabelle yells at Jace to turn that bloody racket off, before swinging the heavy door open and a fresh gust of salty air hits her nostrils, slowly taking in the sight of the three disheveled figures on her doorstep._

_"Is this the Institute?" The dark haired boy asks._

_"Who's asking?" she asks, eyebrow raised, dark hair flowing down her back as she crosses her arms over her chest, hidden blade just to the right of her. They're Shadowhunters, the runes tell her that much, but Valentine has taught her to be cautious even of her own._

_The same boy opens his mouth, and Isabelle can tell by the arrangement of his features that the words about to tumble out will be harsh, insulting, and that by the way he worriedly glances at the girl in between them that he will do anything to usher her inside –_

_When the other boy speaks, his hair as equally drenched as the other two, a dark grey, and Isabelle isn't sure if the mist is playing with her eyes or if his own irises are the luminous colour they appear to be._

_She tugs on the hem of her shirt as he speaks, feeling unnaturally self conscious with the way the three of them are looking at her, as if she's severely underdressed. Or perhaps it's the cold wind nipping at her that causes her to do it._

_"I'm James," he cuts his friend off, not even sparing a glance in his direction as his companion glares quite strongly at him, a glare almost Jace worthy. "We were hoping if it's not too much of a bother, if we could talk to the head of the Institute. We wish to ask for assistance."_


End file.
